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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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013 7881068 4 



HoIIinger 

pH8.5 

Mill Run F3-1955 



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.K29 
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" Fools are my theme, Ut satire be my sony." — Byron 



Daklinq Bros. & C< >., Publishers. 

DETROIT, MICH. 

1888. 



AW 



G)o tr,< 



P'lend who borrows "t 91s KJoor? 
instead of buyina a copy, trje same is 
affectionately Dedicated bv 

Sj)HE QUTHBR. 



Copyrighted, 1^88, 
Hv DARLING BROS. & CO. 



^he YoieE From the S£hr0ne. 



I &2 IKE Byron in Don Juan, we want a hero, 
/""'1V And, finding nothing better, choose ourself 
Our popularity is nearing zero, 

And we will soon be laid upon the shelf, 
Unless we ape the self-anointed Nero, 

And court the favor of the kings of pelf, 
Or turn each critic to a living torch, 
And scorch those censors who delight to scorch. 

Those cursed critics ! O how sharp their pens ! 

By Jupiter ! they make us fairly writhe ! 
They picture us with a distorted lense, 

And hew and Hay us with their verbal scythe; 
If we but wink, they rush forth from their dens 

And pounce upon us (they're pernicious lithe.) 
The soulless wretches have no charity, 
They'd prick our bubble popularity. 



So we are forced to blow our own bazoo, 
( We rather like to use the pronoun plural ; 

It gives the kingly purple brighter hue, 
And makes us look divine to optics rural); 

Then hail US chief, ye brainless, bootless crew ! 
The great dictator, pontiff, high-priest, cure-all ; 

A corner-stone on which to build or start a 

Nation or a Democratic party. 

They tell us that our brain's a trifle weak, 
And that our apex is a lonely bump ; 

To be more plain, our head runs to a peak, 
Similar to the dromidary's hump ; 

That, though we have a well developed cheek, 
Our fittest cognomen is "Royal Chump." 

But where's the use of any brains at all ? 

Success's surest talisman is — Pfall ! 

Like simple George the Third, we scarcely know 

Why we're exalted, and it's rather puzzling 
Why men of brains should bow so very low 

To one whose chief accomplishment is guggling; 
'Tis true, the patronage that we bestow 

Is wondrous potent in its power of muzzling 
The public tensor; sycophants, 'tis known, 

Delight to have a block head on the throne. 








And as for us, why, we 
shall ne'er object, — 
<\ L Oh no — to whatsoever 
exaltation 
The groveling slaves and 
sycophants select — 
E'en to an imperial 
coronation ! 
Kin^ ( i rover T. would 
be a quite correct, 
And to ourself, most 
welcome appellation. 
Thrice Caesar did the 
crown refuse — (the 
dunce !) 
But as for us — just let 
them try us once ! 




^-v^v^fe) ^ 




The laborer shall have full 
recompense, 

And from the contract 
vassal be secure ; 

With prison contract labor 
we'll dispense, 
And give each laborer a sinecure ; 
Each homeless wretch shall have a residence, 
And no excuse there'll be for being poor; 
In short, no promise will meet our rejection 
That's likely to secure our re-election. 



Our One-Term claim was a gigantic guy, 

But worked most charmingly with the unthinking; 

The quid nuncs knew 'twas wholly in our eye, 
And readily discerned our subtle winking; 

Like Joey B., we're deep and dev'lish sly 
In ladling pabulum for public drinking 1 . 

When we put forth that One-Term ultimatum, 

It was a Benedictine vow, verbathn. 




v^l 



i I 



Dear Corporations, fear not for 
thy fate: 

We do not reprehend tin- 
lust of ofold; 

Thy millions, won by syndicate 
And trust and combination, 
we are told 

By demagogues, thou dost 
accumulate 

— By wicked stratagems and 

methods bold; 



But we proclaim thy combinations just: 
A public office is a public "trust." 



In proof whereof, vide our manifesto, 

Forbidding shipment of all goods in bond 

O'er English soil. It may be wrong to jest so, 
But if the Senate" haply should respond, 

Retaliation, quick as wizard's presto! 

Upon ourselves in dread force will rebound. 

We, Horace-like, the Etruscans hold at bay, 

And give monopolistic Tarquins sway. 



1? 




PAKT15AM^| 



Our Civil Service reforma- 
tion fails 

To satisfy your carping 
Fadladeens; 

And so all o'er the land we 
hear the wails 

Of those whose heads be- 
neath our oaiillotine 

Have dropped; and each our 
policy assails 

As hypocritical (plague on 
their spleen); 

But we protest our cleaver 
martyrs none, 

Except he prove offensive 
partisan. 



We do admit our veto's been profuse, 

We've been unmindful of the nation's dead; 

Some who have had the. hapless luck to lose 
A limb or so, and thousands more who shed 




4iwT~ Their blood in Freedom's cause, 

v^ 7 we must refuse, 

fll 

E'en if their little ones do cry 

for bread, 

For what's the bread in soldier's 

orphan's mouth 

Compared with ballots garnered 

in a solid South ? 



We love the soldier, if he's Democrat, 

And votes and works for our retention ; 
And in his case withhold our dread fiat, 

And freely grant him and his heirs a pension ; 
We love the rebel with 
his mammoth hat, 
He hath a wholesome 
voice for a conven-l 
tion ; 
We h >ve the mugwump, 
for to him alone 
Arc we indebted for 
our present throne. 




H 



We love the Irish, and deplore their woes, 

When not Republican, we love the German; 

We love the Hebrew with his 
crooked nose, 

The Scotchman with his 
pompous air and vermin; 

We love Italians, French, 
Arrapahoes, 

The negro, Turk 
or Russ, in rags 
or ermine, ^W ^^'yP^I/^ 

The Spaniard, Pole 
or Chinaman, in 
~ -=&.0> C oat or 

Cassock, if a Democratic 





Of all men, though, we love the English best, 
And tin's is why we advocate free trade: 

Fair Albion's business is somewhat depressed 
From being headed in her ruthless raid 

Upon our manufactories; and lest 



i 5 




She should be ruined, hasten to her aid. 
It matters little how our own trade suffers, 
So we but bloat the bloated English coffers. 

The Englishman loves us, next to his beer, 
Or half-and-half, or ale, or beef or soul ; 

The "Thunderer" admits that no Premier 
Has so advanced their interests, on the whole. 

As did our message; and from ear to ear 

Fat John Bull laughs, —the tiling's so very droll. 

To see a nation paupered by its chief 

To give its bitt'rest enemy relief. 



16 



m, 



'>■ 






It galls us sore to see our 
people's pride 

And vanity from o'er 
prosperity ; 

That Roman genius, wit 
and learning died 
From over feeding, is a verity ; 

Contentment's but a people's ebbing tide, 

While hunger spurs them to celerity ; 

Hence, we'll apply that potent pruning blade 

That never fails to humble — 'clept Free Trade. 

'Tis true, on sugar we'll ne'er lower the rate, 
But sweep the tariff from all sorts of liquor, 

So all may learn to take their poison straight, 
And feel the godly inspiration quicker; 

And wool shall share in liquor's happy fate, 
So that the farmer may soon cease to dicker 

For living prices for his snowy fleeces, 

And see each foreign grower grow a Croesus. 



i7 




Some members of our 
party, too, find fault 
Because we play the 
roll of party "boss," 
And hint at calling an 
eternal halt 
E'en at the risk of 
ours and party loss; 
Some growl because 
we're fond of Duffy's 
Malt, 
And deem our action nothing 
short of gross, 
In testifying to the liquor's merits, 
In fair exchange for samples of the 
spirits. 

We love publicity, and 'tis our rule 

To use our utmost efforts to promote it ; 

We sweat dull speeches in the female school, 

( It matters not what hungry scrivener wrote it); 

We speak at fairs to show that we're no fool — 
That is, we take a gazetteer and quote it, — 

And whelm the gaping dolts in mystery, 

How we should know their obscure history. 



i8 





Thus we've made 
friendships in the 
Sunny South 

\ With platitudes inordinately dull; 

The yahoos listened with distended mouth. 

While we with taffy filled them brimming full ; 
We praised their crops, spoke feelingly of drouth, 

Their progress lauded — anything to gull 
And so impress them with our deep affection, 
That they will work and vote for our election. 



Our Southern tour was an entire success: 

At every point a patriotic crowd 
Received us with true Southern heartiness 

And hospitality that did us proud. 
Chivalrous Southerners! how quaint ye dress — 

Ye wear sombreros, and your faces shroud 
With tiny curtains, to avoid the rays, 
On which arc blazoned three small mystic " K's." 



19 




What we desire (could we 
express our meaning) 
Is this : To keep all 
parties in the dark 

Upon the subject of our 



'Till we attain 

TR A D* ) ambition's 

highest mark; 

our inward mo- 



tives 



'Twixt Scylla and Charybdis steer our bark ; 
This line will smack of learning to the common herd, 
Though of its meaning we know not a single word. 

We're no free trader — though we say we are 
Some stanzas back, and may seem inconsistent 

To those who've kindly followed us thus far ; 
But we'd much rather you'd not be persistent 

In making us a stationary star ; 

The fact is, we are truly non-resistant — 

Prefer to be a shooting luminary, 

That we may shift as the conditions vary. 



20 



For when your pri- 
mal object's to de- 
ceive 

Mankind, you can't 
be too mysterious; 

Not comprehending, 
they will fain be- 
lieve 

Your mystic gibb'- 
rish something se- 
rious ; 

Thus, if the priest his 
mummery should 
leave, 

He'd cease at once 
to be imperious — 

But this a theologic 
question raises — 

We'll lose the Irish vote as sure as blazes! 




But man lias been, and e'er will be a dupe; 

To learn the truth the masses are unwilling; 
They would no more to kingly ermine stoop 

Could they but penetrate the rotten filling, 
Than they would drink a restaurant's cheap soup 



21 



When they had witnessed its unclean distilling. 
And this explains why we are never wont 
To trust to any save our friend Lamont. 




Good Dan'l knows our heart, (if there, indeed, 
In our anatomy be such an organ); 

He also knows our weaknesses, and need 

Of common sense, and so explains our jargon 

Unto the world, that gaping millions read, 
And mentally portray this uncouth gorgon 

Somewhat more godly than the god Apollo, 

And as to brains — would beat old Plato hollow. 



22 

Dan knows our inner life, and so discreet 
Is he, the world imagines us a Cato ; 

Our sottish, unchaste life would prove a treat 
To scandal-mongers seeking toothsome data ; 

But all who try to pump good Daniel, meet 
The silence of a most discreet potato. 

Some sins will out, and go forth to the nation, 

And for these sins we ask extenuation. 

Our sins, named in the order of their grade, 
Are firstly, (-doubtless worst of all), our vetoes; 

And secondly, our message on Free Trade ; 
The third in line, returning those Palmettoes 

(Or Rebel battle flags) to each brigade ; 
Our many other sins, are like mosquitoes, 

Creeds and cranks, they thrive upon disaster, 

The more you crush 'em, they increase the faster. 

On dit the people's servants have been used 
By us to do our private dirty work ; 

That, while official matters are confused 
And sadly in arrears, each drudging clerk 

With campaign documents is kept amused, 



23 

And dare not murmur, " peach " or shirk. 
But public offices for public good 
Are an inocuous desuetude. 

So if you're flesh, or aught 
besides mere delf 
Or wood, or metal, and 
our unclean life 

Should nauseating prove, 
forget ourself, 
And fix your gaze upon 
our lovely wife — 

She who from each apoth- 
ecary's shelf 

Angelic beams, the rainbow of your strife — 
And should you deem us just a bit too rank a 
One to claim your franchise — -vote for Fra,7ikie. 





^he 0ld Roman. 



m 
- 



LD Roman" am I called — a name, no doubt, 



- ~? Suggested by a somewhat Roman nose, 
Which is, although not just the classic snout, 

Ouite Roman like, in that it comes to blows 
So frequently with that now famous clout, 

The "red bandana" which we now propose 
To proudly float upon the breeze's puffing, 
And keep the party candle bright by snuffing. 




26 

The "red bandana" ! What a proud ensign 
To float above a noble victor's car ! 

In praise of it strike up ye tuneful Nine, 
And herald forth its glory from afar; 

Before it Godfrey's signet must resign, 
The Roman Eagle and "S. P. O. R.," 

Great Bruce' s cross — all, all must come to grief, 

And yield before a dirty handkerchief ! 




What signifies what former 
chieftains chose 

To mark their valor or 
embalm their deeds ? 

The cross, the crescent, eagle, 
lily, rose, 

The lions, dragons, ser- 
pents, rampant steeds — 

\\Y choose the symbol of a 
gen'rous nose, 
Which meets the sanction of all tribes and creeds, 
Save Japanese and tailors, I believe, 
One uses paper, 'tother one: his sleeve. 




27 




None can deny our crest is apropos, 

And fits us like an India rubber garter; 

This motto added: "In hoc" (also blow) 
"Signo viuces," (motto for a Tartar), 

Will make a 'scutcheon worth)- Ivanhoe ; 

This harmless banner never caused a martyr— 

It never shed the blood of any fellow. 

Save one owned by a black man named ( )thello. 



For Grover's 'scutcheon (as T have the knack o' 
Fixing things and putting them in tune), 

I'll choose, as he has never strode the back o' 
Charger as a heavy or a light dragoon. 



28 

I'll choose, because, forsooth, he chews tobacco — 

An inoffensive partisan spittoon. 
Then watch our banners sweeping all before — 
'The "Red Bandana" and the "Cuspidor." 



rfT^ ' Vi^or fort )' >' ears I 




ve 



struggled might and 



main 

To gain the White 
House, — 'twas my 
life's ambition ; 

All tricks e'er known to politics in vain 
I've tried to see my fondest hope's 
fruition ; 
And now just as life's orbit 






<>ins to wane, 




T find myself in that most sad 
position 

^ (Tho' President I'd rather 
be than right), 



Of playing tail to an unwieldy kite. 



And what is worse, his health is so robust 

(That is, supposing his re-elevation), 
I ne'er ran hope t<> live to see him dust, 



2 9 




v*+? 



And thus be 
lifted to his 
lofty station. 

So all that I can 
hope for, 
pray, or trust, 

Is epidemic or 
assassination 

T o m a k e m e 

president ; 
and fools, 
the saee in- 



Forms us, are proof 'gainst murder and contagion. 

To tell the learned world that I'm profound 
In everything, from baseball to the bible, 

Were doubting their own erudition sound — 
Upon the av'rage intellect a libel. 

I trace the roots of Greek into the ground, 
(This information's for the unread rabble) ; 

I know the Hebrew, German and Egyptian, 

And modern slang of ever)' description. 

Italian, Russian, Arabic and Danish, 

Sanscrit, Choctaw. Volapuk, Japanese, — 



3Q 

And as for classic: Latin, French and Spanish, 
1 know them as I know my A B C's; 

The Scotch or Gaelic — people somewhat clanish, 
And like their language, not approached with 

Hut 1 read Ossian, a thing no person [ease ; 

Ever did, but me and Jim Macpherson. 



*§&. 



But what proves 
most conclusive 
that I am a 

Man of learning, 
with a soul sub- 
lime, 

• f I* Is my devotion to 
^C-fpjJf the I ; rench-est 

. '€>"-<- drama — 

I n trage d y, or 

l|r*< farce in prose 

or rhyme — 

worship it as Hindoos do their Bramah, 
The donkey thistles, or Jay Gould a dime — 
there's aught better than all else I do know, 
is Molliere or Dumas fits or Hugo.* 




• II. la tlmrouKhly veraed in, and passionately fond of. the French drama."— 

Life of Thun 



;i 




Though long opposed, this truth must still prevail 
I hold that negros are but animals* 

But recently denuded of their tail, 

And should be colonized with cannibals, 

Or put upon the block at public sale 
As slaves, and herded in so many stalls, 

And made to toil 'neath summer's scorching rays, 

Just as it was in ante-bellum days. 



♦"The Degro is a prolific animal."— Thurman's J'<>rt Huron Spt 1 1 !•■ 



Republics, some maintain, should ne'er hold slaves, 
And the)' my doctrine knowing, will repel its 

Force, although Sparta's democratic braves 
For centuries in bondage held the Helots; 

And reared their temples upon bondsmen's graves, 
While bawling "Liberty!" like lusty zealots. 

We want no negroes with Caucasians blent— 

This ought to be a white man's government. 



And now my faith and wisdom I've defined 
( hiite plain enough for any comprehension ; 

My knowledge rare and Bourbon faith combined 
Ought surely claim the voter's strict attention. 

Vote early and vote often, if inclined 
Toward the Hobson's choice of the Convention, 

And 1 will take my lowly proper station 

At the table's foot, like a poor relation. 

And now I'll say adieu until November, 
When you, 1 hope, will rally at the polls; 

Fan into flame each thing rebel ember, 
And roast the carpetbagger on the coals; 

Intimidate; the nigger, for remember 

They're only animals, ami have no souls. 

From torrid Pensacola to Savannah 

The air make lurid with the Red Bandana. 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



013 788 106 8 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



013 788 106 8 



Hollinger 

PH8.5 

Mill RunF3-1955 



\ 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



013 788 106 8 



Hollinger 

pH8.5 

Mill Run F3-1 955 



